Day 9 - Windsor Castle, Bumbles and a walk down the Mall

There’s some completely accidental genius in my trip planning.  Arriving into the iconic heart of London via the river.. recovering from the journey out in the beautiful but off the beaten track countryside.  Today we find another element. We started off fairly low key on the historic dwellings and have been building to a crescendo.  Blickling Hall, Sandringham, Burghley.. Today is Windsor Castle.  We have allowed the whole day for it.

We are well fed by the brekky at The Alhambra. The dining area is humming and the service is speedy, which is what we’re wanting in London. No time to waste.  Hubby has the full English breakfast which is consistent with the usual eggs, baked beans, bacon and a grilled tomato… in this case a beautifully ripe tomato.. an improvement on the not quite ripe on he had at the Bull and Swan.  I stick with the continental for which a fairly average croissant was provided.  I decide to sample the marmite on my toast. I’m craving something savoury.  I was raised on Marmite (shock horror) so it’s no particular hardship to me and argue that they aren't that different.. though this local Marmite is of a very different consistency to Marmite in Australia.. Hubby is scornful though.

We’re running a bit late departing. I had planned to get the 8:50 train from Paddington and to depart “home” at 8 am to have plenty of time. Haha. That’s all I can say.  We have a bit more difficulty navigating the underground this time due to the two paddingtons and due also to the fact that it seems that some platforms have trains heading in both directions… what the?  Again as I stand shaking my head over a sign for the likely platform a kind besuited man stops his hurried commute and volunteers some directions and advice to steer me in the right direction, before hurrying on.  I think you guys are going to do a fantastic Olympics.  You have the right welcoming attitude to visitors! Simply awesome.

With much continued trepidation we make the appropriate change at Edgeware Road and smoothly navigate the transit to Paddington Rail. Eventually after much looking about we end up in the right queue for tickets for today and buy our weekly travel pass (paper ticket for 241 offers) and a top up to Windsor return.  The Sikh man selling to us was really great and seemed to anticipate all our needs, explaining how to use the tickets and everything. On request he also provided the destination to look for and the change at Slough.  Great service. He must have a very busy job given the queue! We’re running about an hour behind the plan and will be on the 9:50 train.

We head out into the station.  There’s a barrow selling Paddington Bears. In truth the Paddington stories are also more meaningful to me now and I am sure I’m not the only visitor that can really relate to the little bear in a big station helped by Londoners!  Honestly I wouldn’t buy a Paddington bear anywhere else, though I appreciate I’ll probably pay a premium for it.. but we don’t want to carry it all day.. We will need to come back.  

Waiting for the train platform to be announced on the departure boards, as far as I’ve noticed I’m the only person snapping photographs.  When our train platform is announced I don’t realize that it’s going to be a bit of a scrum for seating on the train and I linger for another shot. Never mind. Slough is only a short distance away, though by rights we probably should have challenged the middle aged lady who seemed to think her coat and handbag had paid ample fare, despite plenty of people passing looking for a seat.

The change at Slough was very easy and quick. There’s a weird building just across the way.  It looks for all the world like… well, here's a photo I got later. You decide for yourself what it looks like!

 From what little we can see from the station/train it appears to be a bus terminal.  There’s what looks to be a lunch room with a snooker table filling the space facing us. With such a design it must have a name. I wonder what it is.  We’re ill prepared for photos, but resolve to get a picky on the way back.

The train to Windsor and Eton Central is not so crowded and it’s a quick comfortable ride.  As we cross the river hubby gives me a nudge and points out the views of the castle.  It’s surreal to actually be here.  Alone among the alighting passengers I stand to one side and snap a photo of the view from the station.  

We let everyone else rush off and take our time.  The approach to the castle is quite short and heads through an upmarket shopping arcade. There’s a range of cafes too.  We take a stop at the information centre where the fellow there says the entrance and ticket office for the castle are right at the top of the hill, expect a queue.  The town of Windsor sits abutting the imposing castle walls. Snap snap. Then it’s up the hill. OMG look at that queue. We do as everyone else is doing and wander down the side street to join the back of the queue. I comment to hubby that my enthusiasm is waning.  We’ll see how slowly this queue moves.  Hubby is busy photographing the queue when a lady in ER livery comes down calling out for people who are not part of a group.. you can see her approaching in the photo. 

Our saviour escorts us back up to where we should have gone.  Individuals have a separate, much shorter queue.  Though it’s a reasonable length it moves quickly and our air travel skills are employed divesting ourselves of metal for the security process and xrays.

By the time we walk through into the courtyard it’s only 15 mins until the free tour which departs here at 11 oclock. I figure it might be a good thing to do while the crowds are watching the changing of the guard.  I almost change my mind when the military band starts up and the marching begins. I head over to the fence for a look of the squad (?) marching past.  Cool.  We’re committed now though and pretty soon our guide appears. It was awesome hearing about various historical events relating to the castle and being able to look at it all the while.

The tour begins, after the obligatory introductions and so forth with a visit to a fairly new feature which is a rotunda with a large central “symbol” of the knights of the garter.  Origins of the order are not really known though there are various stories about it including one that is romantic but which first appears 150 years after the first references to the order in the historical records.

Throughout the tour and throughout the day there is a prominent focus on the knights of the garter. They are everywhere at Windsor.  I already knew that they are the highest award in the system, but only now, having visited Windsor and learning more about them, do I realize what a truly big deal they really are.  What an extraordinary honour to be given. They are actually more than a title there’s tangible consequences of the award.

We see Beaufort House built by Charles II as somewhere he could get away from an unhappy (and childless) marriage, and presumably into the arms of one of many many mistresses.  Reputedly there was a tunnel from Burford House to a small house nearby which now houses a Chinese restaurant, but which was originally built for Nell Gwynne.

We stop again by the round tower on the mott which is a steep mound on which the towers were built. The mott is surrounded by the moat.  People think of moats as filled with water, but this is not necessarily so.  There has never been water in this moat. There has been a garden in the moat since the 14^th century. Today there are artists sitting sketching. 

Although there has been a castle occupied by the monarch here for 900 odd years much of what you see today is of more recent construction.  For example, the round tower we’re admiring was built up by 18 (?) metres by George IV because he didn’t think the original tower was imposing enough.  The original tower only extended to the horizontal band which is still visible.  The section above that band is totally cosmetic and contains no usuable space whatsoever.  George IV also did extensive work elsewhere. Opinion various on his efforts. Some see him as a beautifier of the castle. Others see him as a vandal.  I see him as both! One does not exclude the other does it? Today the royal standard is flying which means the Queen is in residence here at the moment. She comes to Windsor most weekends but is at Windsor for all of Easter for “Easter Court”. Water falls in a multitiered cascade down where the garden climbs the side of the mott.

Slightly down the hill are various dwellings where the garter knights have apartments.  Opposite these is St George’s chapel. 

We admire the (original) Norman gate with portcullis and murder holes.  If someone tried to breach the castle the portcullis would be closed and various murderous substances tipped down the murder holes to deal with the invaders.  Perhaps hot water, molten lead, rocks but contrary to popular perception never hot oil.  Oil was far too expensive for that purpose.  There have been four attacks on Windsor Castle over its history, but it has never been taken by force.

Before we head through the norman arch a group of soldiers in their red jackets and bear skin hats march past.

Just through the norman arch is a section of the complex which is quite different.  It is built of different stone and looks almost out of kilter with the surrounds (to my eye).  This was built by Elizabeth I as a space where should get some exercise in bad weather. Elizabeth’s exercise space now houses the royal print collection.  This is not open for visitors, but a selection of the collection is placed out for viewing.

We pause to look at the royal mail postbox where you can post letters.  The castle is a working community housing about 150 people.

Across the way people are still gathered around the railings for the changing of the guard. Those attractive building in the distance dates from the 19^th century and the work done by George IV.  Over in the far corner is the Sovereign’s Tower and around that are the Royal Apartments.  These are the home of the royal family.  Here’s a photo I took later once the crowds had gone.

The areas that are open for viewing are the State Apartments where official State functions are conducted. These are in another area of the castle.

Next our tour heads down onto the North Terrace which tops a 30 odd metre cliff.  Various sovereigns have established or expanded the north terrace. If memory serves originally it was wooden and used by Henry VIII as a firing range. Elizabeth I used it for outdoor exercise with a degree of privacy.  A later monarch (name escapes me.. was it Charles II?) widened it to it’s present state.  It is here the tour concludes. The queue to enter to see Queen Mary’s Doll house and the State Apartments our guide currently estimated as 20 minutes. 

St George’s Chapel is my priority though so we double back and do that first, taking our time listening to our audio guide and admiring the beautiful features of the church.  There are many moving and impressive elements to this place, but easily the most outstanding feature in my mind is the truly magnificent marble sculpture commemorating the death in childbirth of Queen Victoria’s cousin, Charlotte, the only legitimate child of George IV. 

Throughout the tour and throughout the day there is a prominent focus on the knights of the garter.  St George’s Chapel is no exception. The arms and decorated helmets of the knights of the garter are all on display. 

We pause at graves of various monarchs who are buried in the chapel.  Edward VII and George V both and their queens each have a beautifully carved sarcophagus out in the main body of the cathedral.  George VI and Elizabeth have a small private chapel but their graves are marked by a simple black slab in the floor.  Princess Margaret’s ashes are also interred in this small area.

Emerging from the chapel it’s pretty much lunch time.  As far as we know, if we want anything substantial to eat we need to get a pass out and get something in Windsor.  It’s not a long walk, but we’ve been on our feet all day and in anycase we don’t really want to spend the time that would consume.  We decide we’ll make do with an icecream from one of the vendors around the castle grounds and have that while we stand in the queue.  When we return to North Terrace we find the queue now looks about double the length it was when we ended the free tour.  Maybe 40 minutes then.  Nothing else for it but to join asap and this is what we do – obviously.  The icecream was OK. The icecream was pretty expensive for what you got we thought.  Captive audience. …also the icecream which is in a tiny tub comes with a stupid flat paddle thing to eat it. Uggh.  Glad I have a teaspoon in my handbag! :o)

The queue moved much more quickly than we expected and not too long after we had finished our icecreams and a small sample of nutella I’d bower birded from breakfast  (knew that would come in handy!) and listened to the audio guide material for this location we are heading up the stairs in to see Queen Mary’s dollhouse.  The amazing thing about this dollhouse is that everything is made by the people who would have done the full sized original.  The dollhouse was a gift for Queen Mary, who collected miniature things. Manufacturers where approached to provide miniatures of their products. Even paintings are reproduced in miniature by the people who did the original. The doll house has working plumbing and lighting. The level of detail is quite extraordinary.

From the doll house we emerge into another more brightly lit area and go into an exhibition of photographs. 60 Photographs for 60 years.  It seems the photographers on the tours of Australia fell down on the job and didn’t get any image that makes the cut.  None-the-less the exhibition is quite interesting, each photo having a little interpretive panel.  There are quite a few photos of the Queen enjoying herself at the Races, which, thinking about it, seems an odd focus when the exhibition is about the Queen’s reign as monarch.  Lovely photos, and it’s nice to see the queen smiling, but what on earth does going to the races have to do with being a long reigning monarch?  Wouldn’t it make more sense to concentrate on images of the Queen on the job?  Photographs of racing seem more appropriate to a birthday exhibition.

On with the tour.  We start to get a hint of some of what is ahead as we climb the stairs past some wonderful armour.  I do love the armour. A pink sequined Easter egg has been balanced on the foot of one of the mounted suits of armour. One of the older English tourists can’t quite get her head around the presence of this egg in such a place and is loudly questioning.. her family try to hush her up a bit.  I smile.  There’s another sequined egg in another room where the public couldn’t reach.  Official Easter eggs then :o).

The next large space is filled with more arms, armour and spoils of war presented to the monarch by successful generals.  There is even a piece of jewellery that contains the bullet that killed Nelson at Trafalgar.

One could summarise the tour of the State Apartments by saying that they are as grand and yet as tasteful, as one would hope, given that they are the premier reception spaces of the monarch of the United Kingdom, and in the past, of the Empire.  Windsor Castle has to be a definite must on the agenda of any tourist.  It is worth the effort and the entry fee. The State Apartments are spectacular and blow every other grand room we’ve seen completely out of the water. The competition isn’t even close.

A particularly interesting element of the tour is the restoration of those spaces that were either damaged or destroyed by the fire of 1992.  It’s a bit shocking to think it’s 20 years ago. Seems like only yesterday.  Like all catastrophes, the fire provided opportunities as well as losses.  There is a small space called the Lantern room or something like that.  This space, the Duke of Edinburgh suggested that rather than restore it as it was, it could be used to provide a better place to provide a transition from one area to the other.  It’s been beautifully done and is a very lovely room.  It is here that the fire started and there is a small memorial plaque about that.  In other regards though, the design is modern, but pays respect to the context and it doesn’t look at all out of place.  It’s particularly satisfying that in such a long reign the Queen and the Duke have done something that will leave their clear imprint on the fabric of the castle. I imagine tours in a few hundred years relating the events discussing QEII.

In other rooms there are the painted Verrio ceilings and walls hung with ancient tapestries and decorated with the most elaborate furniture..It has all the elements in place at Burghley and yet… it looks good.  Really good. I contemplate why it looks so much better here. What is different? They knew when to stop!  Someone responsible for the decisions understood that an area of plain wall enhances the nearby features.  We take our time in each room and listen to our audio guide as we move along.  We have a nice chat with one of the attendants in what I think of as the “gold room” and she is moved to show us the state of the room after the fire. We also hear about the huge green urn. It looks solid, but is actually a lighter material covered in a malachite veneer, VERY skillfully applied.  It came through the fire OK where it stood. Too heavy to pick up and carry out.  But then a few days later all the veneer just fell off.  The malachite had to be carefully collected and the urn restored. What a job! You would never know.

We’ve passed through grand chamber after grand chamber, each with it’s own individual character and associations. Each splendid and tasteful. Owned by the State, Windsor Castle is something the people of Britain can be immensely proud of.  I have heard it oft repeated that the Royal family refer to the business of Monarch as “The firm”.  I can understand that having toured the State Apartments.  I really got a clear sense in the spaces here, that there are times where you are “at work” as the Monarch. It’s not personal. The Queen is simply the occupant of a role. There’s nothing personal at all in these rooms.  They are all about Statehood and tradition and history. They are simply awesome.
Every now and then along the way we ask eachother what has been the greatest highlight so far in our trip.  Windsor Castle does it for me!  Hubby’s favourite is still Norwich. The food, the places we went to. He loved poking about and getting lost in the Lanes and the people sitting about on the grass in the churchyard picnicking…. Yes, possibly Norwich is benefiting from first experience lift. Then he adds “Norwich is the only place that I’ve seen a KFC” haha.. oh you’re not serious!!  Hubby does love his KFC!.. and we both find the slight differences in the product from country to country quite fascinating.  Hubby made a decision some time back that he will try the KFC in every country he visits. Maybe it was finding that NZ KFC still has the bean salad, that was our favourite thing they did, but was dropped in Australia many years ago now. I think he’s getting worried about the possibility of not finding a KFC again.

The tour of the State Apartments emerges near to the entrance of a “secret” facility.  The Undercroft Café. Oh how we wish we knew that was there earlier.  This is where those people were disappearing to when we were in the queue.  Who knew?  There’s nothing about it in our map/guide leaflet.  We revive ourselves with a shared bagel and scone with clotted cream and jam, and some yummy Sandringham apple juice. Mmm.  The Undercroft café is another benefit of the fire. It was divvied up into smaller rooms but when the ruined walls were removed this grand medieval space was revealed.  It was originally an eating space too, so it’s use as a café is inspired. The café is only a trial at the moment and feedback welcomed.  We make sure we complete the feedback form and hand it in. Keep the café. In fact hubby reckons they should have a restaurant like at Burghley I say the café format should be the priority so that people who can’t afford to spend the $$ on a more fancy meal can still get something to eat on site. I guess there may be some repercussions for the village too. The restaurants in the nearby village must get a lot of trade from the tourists to the castle.

The only task remaining now is to get some photos of some spaces now that most of the crowds have gone, and we have a quick look at in the gift shop, then we really need to be heading back in to London if we are to make our dinner reservation at Bumbles. Checking the manifesto we should have left half an hour ago.  Oops.

It's an easy walk down the hill to the train station. Windsor, from what we can see of it, is a very nice little place that would be nice to explore, but we have no time to linger. Hubby takes control of the camera and snaps a few things that capture his attention.
On our way to the restaurant we call them and reassure them that we’re on the way. Bumbles is only a short walk from Victoria and we’re happily settled by 6.20 pm. The place is pretty much full.  We are brought bread and butter and order drinks.  Predictably, I go for the iced tap water and hubby selects.. oops I’ve forgotten to note that. When I ask him now and note my failure on the record keeping Hubby says. “Perhaps we’ll have to eat there again then”  .. we think the beer was Grolsch and it was “good”.

As we nibble on the breads the young woman at the table next door receives a delivery of a rather theatrical dessert. It has a neat round sphere of chocolate dominant on the plate, but as we watch it melts and collapses dramatically draping the underlying elements in a seething mass of molten chocolate. She and I exchange exclamations of delight. Awesome.

To start I go for the Beer Battered Haloumi, mushy peas and tomato chutney; hubby opted for Morecombe bay shrimp and snail lasagna, capers and hay veloute, truffle oil.  Puzzled initially why they brought him a spoon.. Both starters are outstanding. We both claim victory. Even so far in the ordering competition.

Mains: Me: Essex Telmora duck breast, confit leg, orange puree, duck soil, cheese mash (supplement £2.50) Hubby: Norfolk baby chicken, ballotine, pickled and barbequed cauliflower and carrot puree.  Both outstanding. Another tie. We play a decider for dessert. Me: I got in first and bagsed the Peanut Butter soufflé and strawberry sorbet (please allow 20 mins) this came out and the spoon of sorbet is dropped into the middle of the soufflé with dramatic effect. Hubby: obliged to settle for the Cold chocolate fondant, brownie with orange sorbet…not the dessert the young woman had.. I wonder what she ordered…  Both of our desserts were outstanding but I win the tie breaker by an easy margin….you usually win if you choose the soufflé!  :o)

Bumbles knows what they’re about and we’re out and on our way before 8pm.  It’s a cold evening and I’m dressed quite lightly under my coat. I don my triple layer raingear. Glad I’ve got that with me.  It’s only a short walk up the street to Buckingham Palace which is lit up. We loiter about as darkness falls capturing this or that with moonlight setting. Very atmospheric.

When we’ve had our fill of the palace we head off down the mall. St James’s park is dark and it doesn’t seem like much to gain by extending our walk by heading in there. People are about in reasonable numbers. Most with shoulders hunched in that way you do when you’re a bit cold. A couple of bare calved runners jog past us. A long row of brightly lit low arches glows across the street.
Statues and monuments lurk as dim shadows atop imposing plinths.  Hubby points out the statue of Captain James Cook.

We pass into Trafalgar square and on the way we observe that Admiralty Arch is actually bow shaped with room for offices in it.  Not just a monument, it's actually a building.

We huddle in our black hooded cloaks pointing at the huge lions guarding Nelson on his tower. Lots of people around.. we scurry into the bright warmth of the underground station.  Home and in bed by 9:30. No wind down. We’re asleep within moments. 

Day 8 - Part 2 - Docklands, The Thames, tower and Dinner at Rosemary Lane

Tuesday 3rd April 2012
We're safety settled on the train from Peterborough to London. The scenery isn’t too fascinating and I have a bit of a kip along the way.  We arrive at Kings Cross just after 1pm.  OMG! St Pancras station is more elaborate and grand than anything else we’ve seen so far, but we're weighed down by luggage and don't stop to play tourist.  Hubby expresses the view that this is a strange thing to do for a train station- It’s like a cathedral. Well, I guess it is in a way. At the time it was built it would have been like a place for the worship of this miraculous modern technology.

It is an easy business to follow both signs and people out of the station and we quickly locate a handy map of the area.  Very very easy to head across to Argyle St and The Alhambra Hotel is not far along.  It is in a fabulously convenient location for train travel.  We book in. We’re on the second floor. I go and do a reccie while hubby waits with the luggage. It’s a narrow stairway so it’s one bag at the time and quite a climb to our room.  We’re glad we’re here for 9 nights. While hubby does the heavy work, this gives me a chance to chat with the owner.  As we’re running late we don’t do a lot to get our gear organized, but it quickly becomes apparent that the eccles cakes I quickly stowed in Sid (the carry on luggage) have escaped their confinement and deposited flakey crumbs in great quantity in amongst my various possessions.  Oh &#$%.  Contents of the bag are quickly flung across the bed and finally, satisfied that the bag is otherwise empty I commence vigorously shaking Sid over the toilet. Not much in the way of crumbs falling out. KERKLUNK.  #$@# what was that?.. Oh @#$# the iphone.  Ick. Quick retrieve.  Great. Yes I do the stupid thing and once I’ve dried it off I try to turn it on.  Iphone no longer critical. Iphone now dead. $%T#.

Oh well. Not really an issue over here and I can sort that when we get home. Shaking continues.. KERPLOP.. oh $%$#$%# %$#$ what the #$#@ was that?  A luggage padlock.  We go toilet dipping again.  Eeew.  Where’s the soap….

OK NOW I’m learning that shaking bags over toilets is a pretty bloody stupid thing to do.  Rest of the shaking is over the floor of the shower!

We consult the manifesto and retrieve those things I think we will need as we explore.  We’re running dreadfully late on getting to the Museum of London Docklands but are not deterred. It will at least provide a first foray and dinner is already reserved.  We adjust our attire so that we’re not looking too shabby for dinner. Ballet flats in the manbag. Rainwear in the manbag.  Love that manbag.  Off we go.

First stop is the train station to buy an oyster. About 10 mins or so queuing.  We briefly considered using one of the machines on the wall, but they are quite busy and we are quite stupid so we decide to give the competent people a break and just line up for human assistance.  We are assisted by an older man who is quite a character and it makes the whole experience rather fun.  Well, as fun as buying a train pass can be at any rate. Once we’re equipped with our Oyster we’re in good shape. We easily make our way down to the Northern Line.  We evidently look more comfortable with our surroundings now and we are approached by a young Asian girl asking for directions! She seems very shy and I am sorry that I can’t help her with how to get where she needs to go. Another easy change at Bank to the DLR. Easy peasy.  TFL said get off at Westferry.  Museum website said get off at West India Dock.  We get off at Canary Wharf.. we didn’t stop at West India Dock.  We’re looking lost again. We consult our little map guide. We wander outside. Raining. Don raingear. Feeling smug and well prepared.  We walk along in what we think is a likely direction.  Canada Square. Ah. Clearly we’re suffering the disorientation symptoms again.. but again this is lucky because I had figured we would need to skip Canada Square and it is beautiful.  Not just beautiful, perhaps it is the shower of rain, but Canada Square may just be the most immaculately presented public space I’ve ever seen. The green swathe of grass looks like velvet, so even and fine is its pile. Flower beds planted with golden restraint compliment shining sculptures.

Canana Square is also frequented by Docklands Security officers who provide us with excellent instructions for getting to the museum. 

As we wander we find that Docklands is beautiful.  We arrive at the water and are in sight of the green bridge we were told to look for. We walk alongside some wood framed windows looking into classy looking restaurants and bars.  I stop on the bridge to try to get a picture of the beautiful building we’ve been passing which has what appear to be celtic designs carved into the stone.  This area is going to go OFF when the Olympics are on!  To hubby the place reminds him quite a bit of Sydney and the rocks area with its eateries overlooking the water.  Whatever we see or don’t see at the museum we’re really glad we came over here today.

We head into the museum.  I figure we need to leave by about 4:45 or so, which doesn’t give us much time at all.  None-the-less we’re hungry so we do take a quick stop at the cosy café and share a bag of crisps and a tuna melt Panini.  It served a purpose.

The map provided on entry is handy and the museum is laid out chronologically. The idea is you start at the top floor and work your way down through galleries that focus on this time period or that.  Given the time constraints we get the lift to the second floor. I’m really most interested in the first part of the 19^th century when my.. hmm what is he… great great great grandfather was a shipwright in this area.  He emigrated as a bounty immigrant to Sydney with his wife and eldest children in 1832. I’m hoping for information about his trade or the context of his life that might give me a better idea about why he made the choice to relocate.

Coming at it as we are, in quite the wrong way, we find we need to quickly pass through a range of fascinating galleries.. the docks in the war/s… sailortown (more about that later) and finally we get to the beginning of this floor.  We quickly learn that with the volume of trade passing through the docks, and the inadequacy of the port facilities leading to massive costs.. (for example an estimated £500,000 worth of theft). There commenced a huge redevelopment project.  This required the demolition of a lot of houses. Rents soared. There was a war on with France, so the cost of living also soared. Even a skilled artisan would have found it next best thing to impossible to survive or to keep his family in reasonable accommodation.  Not only that, but the area was ridden with crime and the link between cholera and sewerage was not made until the late 1840s.  Raw sewerage flowed into the Thames in huge volumes, so the whole area would have been a poverty stricken, stinking, dangerous disease ridden hole.  I can well imagine that if someone came to you and said. “Hey, we’ll pay you £20 (or whatever) and give you free passage if you’ll hop on a ship and come work in the new colony”  you’d have some powerful motives for taking such a long and hazardous journey. Hazardous though it may be, home is probably more so.

As we’re admiring some artwork of the docks of the period I comment to hubby about the image of a convict hulk and we are approached by an attendant who proceeds to tell us about them.  “I have an ancestor who was on one of those” I proudly boast.  We have a very enjoyable conversation about a range of things.  The attendant is keen that we understand that for many people there was no choice but to commit crimes to survive.  He asks me how we felt when we discovered that our forebear was a convict. He seems a bit surprised to find that most Australians with convict roots are now extremely proud of them.  “You know that is what Waltzing Matilda is about” I explain “it’s about having no choice but to steal to survive”.  Like so many people we talk to, our friendly attendant has close family who have emigrated to either NZ or Australia or one and then moved to the other.  Clearly the ties between our countries remain very strong and personal.

With time for departure approaching, we say our thanks and farewell and proceed back in for a better look at sailortown.  This is a magnificently well done recreation of a dark and dangerous area of the period. Dim lights in rooms with doors slightly ajar. Muffled conversations going on in there. Smells: Horse manure wafts here and there. A child visiting complains to their parents in a disgusted tone about the stench.  We think the smells are the crowning glory that really make the whole thing seem real.  I turn gingerly down a narrow alley and meet hubby coming the other way.  We’re loving the Docklands museum.  We really have to go now though.  We have learned that we really do need to allow more time for getting lost!  Hubby comments that the museum is great and perhaps we should come back another day.  We may just do that rather than the national gallery or something.

We consult our map. OK need to get to Westferry Circus. Hmm. Follow likely signs. Finally we find a sign that points vaguely towards the pier. A likely route peters out. Hmm. Then a young black woman comes walking purposefully in the general direction that the sign to the pier is pointing. It leads down along a busy traffic route that heads underground…but there she is in her white coat… we follow. She seems to know where she’s going. Perhaps she’s heading to the pier..  She’s ahead of us and getting further away.  We are waved across the street by a lady driver.. we round the corner. Where is the lady of the white coat… there.. up ahead. Everything is weird and wonderful around us.  We feel quite disoriented. We must hurry our we’ll lose sight of her.. I feel like Alice in Wonderland chasing the white rabbit. Eventually we lose her. Just as Alice lost sight of the rabbit.  We’ve got not a lot of clue where we are but between us and consulting our map we conclude that we’ve come too far. We head back… This time I can see the road signage. Westferry circus up there via that off ramp.. Hmm.  I find a set of stairs that seem to lead to the circus.  We head up. I don’t care at all that it’s not a public right of way… how the #$%$ else are we supposed to get there?  Ah. Now we’re cooking with gas. I appreciate the nod to history that the curved buildings around the circus give. It’s well done.  Walk on. Gasp.  There’s the Thames… and the pier. Time is short, but quickly snap a photo. We wander down to the ticket office and use our Oyster. £5.40 with Oyster discount for the Thames Clipper service.

I snap photos of the river from the pier, thinking all the while about the time when my forebears knew this area. They wouldn't recognise it now.

It’s only about 8 minutes until the vessel turns up and we board, making our way out the back to the “tourist zone” where the camera wielding visitors are sitting.  We zoom up the river.  We round a corner and Tower Bridge looms large. My heart skips a beat. THIS, THIS is my pinch me moment. I’m in London. I can hardly believe it.

We travel under tower bridge and alight at Tower Millenium within sight of the entrance to traitors gate.  It’s a really fabulous area. The tower is fantastic. We exclaim and I point my camera. The tower is so large I can't get it all in the frame. I end up just taking a video.  Tourists abound and we’re only two of many awed people photographing and admiring this World heritage site. Then we have to move on. Can’t wait to visit the tower, but it's the last thing on the London Itinerary!
It’s a fairly slow process finding Rosemary Lane and it involves much contemplation of our little map but we find our way without needing to backtrack.  Things are looking up!  We wander in to Rosemary Lane restaurant. It was very quiet and only one other table even when we left at 8pm.  When we arrive at just after 6pm the place is empty. Tables are set with white linen.  1940s tunes are playing.  Slight damp smell which I can sense but hubby is oblivious too. We are shown to a cosy corner table.

To start they supplied complimentary bread with very tasty dressed olives.  To start I had Fresh Courgette, mint and spring onion flan (garis of mint leaves and baby leaves, lemon and olive oil dressing) £7; Hubby went for Parma Ham roulade, cream cheese, figs and herbs (creamy mustard mayo dressing) £9.  My spring onion flan was light and fresh and delicious, but hubby’s choice won the round.  Delicious!

Between courses we are treated to a shot glass with freshly squeezed orange and mango juice. Just a hint of mango. Nicer than the usual orange /mango combo. Light and fresh. Mango can be a bit cloying when it’s overdone.

For mains I went for the Pan roast corn fed chicken breast supreme (zingy parsley, lemon zest garlic cream sauce, sautéed tender greens and vegetables with truffled pommes puree £16; hubby’s choice was Rich Lobster bouillabaisse, white wine, chervil (sea bass, prawns shrimp and mussels, cherrystone clams and French bread crouton £18.  Both are very good, but we each like our own the best. You expect a little bias of that sort.

Would we like dessert? You bet. I have bagsed the elephant ear plums, fresh ginger, brown sugar crumble with vanilla icecream boule £6. Hubby takes what is really the only comparable option and has Venezualan chocolate fondant with caramel core, Valencia orange ice cream. £7.  Hubby’s is accompanied by a tasty little orange globular fruit with decorative browned off… ah.. sepals?? Very attractive ornament and a very fresh vaguely passionfruity flavor.   Desserts come up a draw. Both were great. We ask what the little fruit was, but the waiter can’t tell us with any certainty. Something greek? “Fisalis”?

Oh yeah, hubby had a Peroni beer which was about £3.  All up, including optional service charge our bill was £73.92. Talk about value for the standard of food! I done good finding that one.

We take our time heading back past the tower. It’s been raining. Everything sparkles with the light bouncing of puddles in the road or droplets on walls and railings. Moonlight setting is employed on the tower, on tower bridge and the lights dancing all about.

Aching legs and feet are not enough to stop us walking across to the other side of the tower to take in the castle under lights. Hubby requests this angle or that.

Back in the underground at Tower Hill there are service disruptions. We’ve just missed one train, but the next arrives in less than 10 minutes and we’re back home at Alhambra at 9:30.  Loving London!

God help me we’ve discovered there is a whole channel of war documentaries.. sweet torture having to turn it off.

Day 8 - Part 1 - Peterborough Cathedral

Tuesday 3rd April 2012
We have made a neat getaway today. We planned to be driving away by 8:40. A slight delay checking out because they were very busy at the Bull and Swan but we’re on the road with just a little slippage.  Tomtom takes us to Peterborough via the main roads, which I suspect is a rather round about route but not to worry. So long as we get there it’s fine with me today.  It’s striking how much further progressed spring is as we scoot along the motorway.  Leaves are emerging on the trees giving an effect of a long tall patchwork of green and white in the roadside.

We find an easy parking spot near the cathedral and then discover it’s maximum half hour, but we don’t know where else to go so we wander into the Cathedral as a bit of a reccie. We are met by a friendly greeter who tells us that there is a service underway that should finish in about 15 mins. We can go in and just observe the rest of the service if we choose, but no wandering about and no photos. We need to move the car anyway, so we ask for directions to a better parking spot, and this along with a handy map is cheerfully provided.  We’ll easily kill 15 mins moving the car. The best parking for the cathedral is in Bishop’s Road. We pay and display (£1.20 for one hour and then similar additional for extra hrs- bring your coins with you) and as we walk along the road looking around quizzically, a kind woman asks us where we’re heading and makes sure we’re on the right track. We can't help pausing to take in the Bishop's garden and enjoy the fragrance of the spring flowers.

We pass the tourist information centre, which is in the arcade at the end of St Peter’s Road, and emerge into a large town square. Hubby has a quick go at getting cash from a machine. No joy. No time to muck about.  We move on.  The clouds have thickened since we’ve been gone and there’s not the deep shadows making photography so challenging. I am a little surprised to see that small statues have survived across the face of the cathedral.  It really is a very beautiful building.

We enter the cathedral and opt for the souvenir book £5 plus photo permit £3.  Peterborough cathedral is also free entry with voluntary donation so we make a similar donation to what we did at Norwich. There are panels on one side of the cathedral telling the story down the ages, but as I’m in a rush I’m more keen on just exploring.  Of course the above makes it sound like I conduct the proceedings in the logical order.  What really happened is the people on greeting duty make the appropriate noises and I just reply … “Good morning.  Is that the original ceiling?” no doubt in a tone of awe.  Yep. Dates from the 13^th Century. “Wow, it must have been amazing when the whole roof was painted”.

Along the way it is noted that “from your accent it sounds like you’ve come a long way”  “Australia. It’s a shame we don’t have more time here. Unfortunately we have a train to catch”.  Perhaps it’s this or perhaps it’s my obvious sense of awe and enthusiasm but some excellent spirit moves one of the greeters to take a quick break from the desk leaving his colleague holding the fort. The objective is to show me something that is not in the book I’ve bought about the cathedral.  In one section of the cathedral on the back of a wooden screen where the casual visitor probably wouldn’t notice it there is the remains of colour where Cromwell and his oh so lovely vandalistic cretins weren’t quite as successful in removing the paint as they clearly hoped.  The little bits here and there give you just a faint idea of how spectacular the whole effect would have looked.  You know I’m really developing a strong aversion to Cromwell and his cronies! It’s one thing to read in the histories about the civil war and the commonwealth, quite another to be here seeing what they did to these sacred places.

It is also noted for us that the tessellated floor is also original and it’s very elaborate. It’s showing some signs of wear after all these hundreds of years, but the skill of the artisan who was brought in from Italy for the job is clear.  As I understand was the typical thing in those times, he would not let anyone watch him work.  The floor through the choir is much more recent marble. Italian.  I can’t help but wonder if Cromwell hadn’t destroyed the magnificent artwork here and all around the country, perhaps places like Burghley would have had a more local source of inspiration.  I guess it’s just as likely that familiarity may have bred contempt in any case.

We wander around the cathedral marveling (as you do) and snapping the odd photo, but really, the thing I just can’t take my eyes off is the ceiling.  The only section that is not original is a small area where Cromwell and his mob used the images of the saints as target practice, so that bit is a later (but still impressively old) reconstruction. It's the blue section at the bottom of the photograph.

We haven’t had a lot of time here, but we are so glad we made the effort.  We have set ourselves a deadline with an allowance of an hour to get to the train.  We can't help but stop to admire the town square on the way back and we take the opportunity to extract money from a hole in the wall.

We’re slightly late to depart and it all goes smoothly until we can’t find the Enterprise Car Rental premises.  We phone and get directions, twice,and eventually we are there. Now it seems pretty clear we’re going to miss the train.  It’s a costly development as tix now cost three times the price of the ones I had booked, but we don’t regret our choices this morning.

Enterprise drops us to the train station. Peterborough station is in a bit of chaos at the moment with construction works and we are not familiar with the layout. I think of the comment that you simply cannot hide the fact that you are a tourist because no matter what you wear to try to fit in local people don’t constantly gawp around themselves.  Oh how true.  I’m gawping to the max and no doubt looking a bit lost along with it. We have only missed the train by about 5 minutes, so there’s a little time to wait. On our way to the correct platform a well dressed lady insists on helping me down the stairs with my bags. :o) Have I mentioned that people here are SO nice :o)

It’s then a simple business of simply hopping on the train and a quick trip to King’s Cross St Pancras.

Day 7 - Clare Cottage, Burghley and a little bit of Stamford

Monday 2nd April
Each day is settling into a bit of a neat routine of morning journal and leisurely breakfast. Breakfast at the Bull and Swan is from 7:30 – 9:00 am. We mosey on down at about 8:15.  There’s a quite different approach to the breakfast spread here and the buffet table includes a stack of chocolate and plain croissants, and cereals that look like variations on weet bix, corn flakes and untoasted muesli. A range of juices, milk, banana smoothie, fruit (whole pieces) and fruit salad. A small bowl of yoghurt, a plate of cheese wedges and a plate of mixed sliced meats (ham and a couple of sorts of salami). There’s also a menu to choose from, so you can see there is no reason to go away hungry.  I’m not really in the market for a cooked brekky thismorning but I can’t resist a chocolate croissant and a small bowl of muesli… or a wedge of that cheese.  On the menu last night they had all sorts of interesting local product listed for the cheeses after dessert, so I dare say this cheese is going to be worth eating.  Hubby orders a full cooked breakfast and it arrives: a bit smaller in quantity than at our previous stops, but that’s not a problem at all. The bacon was beautifully smokey and tender, the Lincolnshire sausage was very tasty and hubby reports having also enjoyed the eggs, black pudding , tomato and mushroom.  I notice that there are some menu options that include muffins so I ask just for a toasted muffin when hubby is ordering his toast.  The muffin was really yummy and not at all like what is marketed as an English muffin at home.. but I had heard that. That’s why I wanted to try one. For the first time I missed vegemite.  It would have been just the thing on the muffin.

Not a lot to do until things open at 10am, but shortly thereafter we wander down the street to check out the antique stores.  Looking for coloured Victorian glassware for D1.  We find one option but aren’t yet willing to commit. Stamford is a lovely looking atmospheric place and it certainly seems worthy of more time that we have available for it.

Time is a tickin’ away so we head back and get the car for a jaunt the short distance to Helpston and Clare Cottage.  I have had the rose John Clare in my garden for a number of years but was new to the poetry of John Clare until I began planning for this trip. I love his work and his life story is both tragic and in at least some measure, inspiring.

It’s only a little more than 10 minutes to Helpston, but what a lovely trip it is.Yet more proof that the minor roads in any place are generally a lot nicer than the main routes.  We drive past the gates to Burghley and fields of sheep with young lambs and round a corner to a beautiful spectacle of a blossom tree in full flight in the midst of a lovely drift of daffodils.  

The next village is Barnack and it is barely less lovely. No blossom trees but the cottages are well up to standard. It seems a bit of a challenge has been set for Helpston but it is up to the job. We find the suggested parking at the Exeter Arms without any difficulty and park behind the pub where there is a large parking area and a grassy outdoor beer garden backing onto the gardens of nearby cottages. All quite open.  Here we are greeted by a friendly tom cat, crying for a pat. I offer him a tummy scratch but this is apparently something a bit too forward of me and he’d rather stick with the routine back pat.

We set off to find Clare Cottage and in the process wander through lovely little lanes with thatched roofed stone dwellings. It is all very charming.

 Back on the main drag people are gathering at the bus stops in small numbers. We wander past and find the memorial to John Clare, with several quotes from his poems carved on the various panels.

Looking about we can find no sign to indicate where we should be heading, so I nip over to the local store and am provided with some directions. It’s just around the corner.  We head towards the Blue Bell pub as instructed past a lovely old farmyard.

John Clare cottage is just near the Blue Bell. It’s so lovely and well presented I have to wonder how it’s current state compares to how it was when John Clare and his parents and family lived here in abject poverty two hundred years ago. As we enter there is a map of the village pointing out the various sites of significance in the poet's life. 

 We wander in to a friendly greeting, pay the entrance fee and are provided with a map and audio guide. There are different versions for adults and for children. I am struck as we explore the cottage by how accessible and child friendly the place is.  They clearly get children as a major part of their business.  In one room there is a cabinet with drawers that you open to see the sorts of things that inspired John Clare in different seasons or in the garden. 

As you progress through the various rooms each is focussed on a different stage of John Clare's life and provide quotations from some representative poems.  One which we both really like is from Clare's later period when his life was rather difficult and he was suffering bouts of mental illness and hospitalisation. It is called I Am. The panels in the cottage are interesting and achieve a good balance of information. Not to much or too little. We clamber up narrow stairways to the upper floors and down another narrow staircase, before emerging back into the reception area and out into the garden, and dovecot where people's responses to their experience of  John Clare and the cottage are displayed. Most seem to be by children. The dovecot is huge. Not at all the sort of thing we would expect at home.

Having completed our audio tour we head in to browse the books. The friendly man on the desk comes over to offer advise about which of the many John Clare books might best suit our needs. In the end I opt for one with some illustrations. It's a bit more accessible. I have the full works on my kindle so I'm looking for something a bit more attractive for the bookshelf. 

The visitor centre is full of delicious aromas. It's baking day.  mmmm. It's well after 12 oclock. A cream tea with scones freshly out of the oven would be just the thing to tide us over.  Delicious.

It's after one by the time we emerge onto the street and head back towards the church to find John Clare's grave. It's an unusual looking church and a pretty atmospheric church yard. Perhaps all church yards are. We were given instructions on where the grave is, but it's not a huge yard in any case. 

The inscription on the grave is even more than usually appropriate.  If ever a poet was born not made it would be John Clare. To have achieved what he did in terms of skill and also success under the circumstances in which he lived is evidence of nothing short of monumental dedication that can come only when one’s spirit is born seeped in poetry.

We bid John Clare adieu and head back through the church yard gate and our vehicle. We have really enjoyed our visit to Helpston. Back in the yard at the pub, Tom the cat is busy in the midst of an argument with another tom. Disturbed they race off and jump up onto a dry stone wall and face off. Hackles raised.  Even the cats here are traditional. No sign of neutering for these two fellows. 

It's a short and lovely drive back to Burghley. There are a lot of cars in the car park and we slip into a space newly vacated and wander up towards the house. Even the stable yard and yes, the kennel yard are impressive spaces.

As in days of yore Burghley continues to aim for a big impression on arrival.  The entry space is fairly new and as you go in there is a beautiful modern sculpture.  

We pay the obligatory fee and are advised that we are in luck today because the South Garden has opened just today. As we’ve requested a place on the guided tour of the house we are advised that we should do the South Garden first so as to be sure not to miss it as the spring bulbs are out.  Enter through the Orangery Restaurant.

We do as instructed and find our way to the restaurant, via the facilities which, like the shop or house entrance are centred on an impressive courtyard.  I simply must say that they have the most delicious smelly hand wash.. lemon verbena scented.. 

....anyway… the Orangery restaurant smells lovely and must surely be one of the most fabulous places you could find to eat. Especially later in the season when the roses are in bloom it would be spectacular.  Menu looked good too and not ridiculous prices. 

We find our way to the entrance to the south garden.  It appears to be like an open garden scheme with a voluntary donation raising funds for charity. We make the suggested donation and wander up the path.  Looking to the right are lovely vistas over the Capability Brown landscape. Quite a priority was put on this landscape as we learned on our tour. The house was originally built in the shape of the letter E. A tribute to Elizabeth 1.  As one of the wings was obstructing the view of the landscape for the family, who were by that time resident on the ground floor, Capability Brown simply had that wing of the house demolished!

As we top the rise we are met with a spectacular display of yellow and white daffodils.  We have been seeing daffodils everywhere but here at Burghley they have clearly gone to some lengths to make the display truly impressive. It is a breathtaking scene, especially for a daffodil lover like myself. The fragrance of the daffodils drifts on the breeze. I am in raptures. I try to capture the scene in photographs, but the images simply cannot do justice to the loveliness of the scene. 

We wander down the hill past the blankets of daffodils to what I guess must be classified as a folly looking over the lake. It's a beautiful walk and brings us in a loop back up towards our entry point.  From here we can wander down through the formal garden, which is another space dominated by roses. South Garden access gives us the ability to explore right around the house to the most symmetrical facade and large golden gates.

Time is pressing on and we need to be back in time to watch the audio display in the top floor of the brewhouse before our tour of the house. The audio visual display takes the form of various Lord Burghley's speaking to the viewer and eachother about their own impact on the house and Estate and indeed finances over the centuries. It's a good introduction and provides context for the tour. It seems to focus most on those members of the family who have been responsible for the artwork and gardens that we are about to see and this is understandable. However I can't help but feel, especially as I reflect later that in between these individuals a hundred or several hundred years ago, there must have been some others who steadily worked at paying for the extravagance of those now hogging the historical limelight!

We are met near the ticket desk by an elderly lady who seems to have been a worker at the Estate for an extended period. Our first stop on the tour is the kitchen, which she describes as, and we agree, is the most interesting room on the tour.  It is also the room most intact from the Elizabethan time. Our guide can of course describe the room and what is in it in great detail. It's fabulous. No photos of course.  On one space on the wall, there is a collection of little skulls.  These are turtle skulls and immediately below them the copper turtle soup tureen which is shaped very realistically like a turtle. The skulls were displayed like a sort of bragging rights by the cook. Real turtles in the turtle soup and here's the skulls to prove it. Nothing fake at Burghley. 

We head next up an elaborate stairway that is as it was originally. Quite dark and atmospheric.. I can only regret that the whole house was not left intact as it was built. We enter the chapel which is nothing short of incredible. Everything about the room is spectacular. The chairs. The statues, the carving. The chapel is still used and will host a service on Good Friday, but in the most part the family now worships in Stamford where most of the family is also buried, including William Cecil. This church, virtually opposite the George, is recommended as containing a lovely memorial to William Cecil (and others also).

Virtually every wall and every space is smothered with major works of art either in frames or directly on the walls. Our guide picks out various to speak about. Usually the ones that illustrate the history of the property or that are by particular artists. If it's not paintings, then it's huge tailor made tapestries, or amazing furniture or in the end the largest ice bucket in the western world. Solid silver and it takes four strong men to lift it.

Most of the decor is not particularly to my taste I have to say. The Lords responsible for such profligate expenditure in the over decoration of their house didn't do the house or their family any favours. They died in huge debt and the burden is ongoing in the massive maintenance such "treasures" require.  Or such are the thoughts of this self confessed philistine!

The tour has lasted well over an hour and it's very nearly 4:30 by the time we emerge to daylight once more. We high tail it across to the entry for the garden of surprises. Were a brief "discussion" with the lady on the gate results in a begrudging permission to go on in. We only have half an hour until the garden closes, but this is enough to give us a taste of it and see some excellent art work scattered and hidden around the area. One of the highlights of the garden of surprises for us is the old Burghley ice house. Ice was cut from the lake and stored in the ice house, much of which is subterranean, where it could last up to two years. Another favourite was a very large metal acorn and another which was a bunch of fine fibres that started in one of the trees and were anchored in a circle in the earth nearby... I'm sure my daughter would like the person in foetal position imprisoned in one of the dry stone walls.  The garden of surprises is a lovely space and worth a look. My love of bark is well satisfied by some bare branched trees.

We finish at Burghley just by 5pm and are among the last of the cars to exit the carpark. We've had three and a half hours here. Probably enough in normal circumstances, but with the South Garden open could easily have used much more or even the whole day. 

We're tired to say the least, so it's just dinner at the Bull and Swan again tonight. It's great to be able to just walk downstairs for dinner.

Tonight hubby decided to sample the Salmon and crayfish tail risotto to start followed by faggots. He enjoyed both. I struggled with the choices on offer but landed on the Grasmere park pork and fennel sausages and mash with caramelised red cabbage.  The sausages were delicious.  We were determined to try the desserts tonight and I believe hubby won with the sticky toffee pudding with clotted cream. My bramley apple and blackberry crumble with english custard was very nice too.. just pipped at the post unfortunately.. With that we are off to bed. Big day tomorrow requires an early start.